


Epiphany

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Darcy is confronted with what dating Steve Rogers means for her heart. No matter how well she thought she had prepared for everything that came with being involved with the First Avenger, seeing him fall rocks her to the core.  *Takes place 3/24/17





	1. Ackbar

**March 24, 2017**

Darcy was at the Tower when she saw it. She had just run up to Steve’s apartment, to see if she left her scarf there, when her phone pinged. She ignored it in favor of squirming farther across the floor and stretching her hand under the couch. Her fingers brushed against soft green yarn and she grunted, “Almost. Come on you little piece of…” Her phone pinged again. Darcy ignored it.

 “Ms. Lewis?”

 “Just a sec, Friday. I almost got-” She snagged it and crowed in triumph. Her phone was vibrating on the coffee table, but Darcy chose to celebrate on the floor rather than answer it. “You see that, Friday? Persistence really does pay off! Do you think if I apply today’s lesson to Tony he would-”

 “Ms. Lewis,” the AI interrupted. Darcy sat up quickly. Friday was nothing if not polite and would not interrupt for anything less than important.

 “Yeah?”

 “The boss has requested that you join him in the briefing room.”

Darcy scrambled to her feet and grabbed her phone, low-level worry beginning to rise. “What’s going on, Fri?” The team was out on a mission, so there were many reasons for Tony to summon her. There had been a lot of false alarms recently, and if they had landed in a foreign country without cause there might be some feathers that needed smoothing. Bucky could have had an episode; that seemed unlikely, but she might have to summon legal to discuss it if that were the case. Natasha could have had a wardrobe malfunction. Extremely unlikely, and the purview of the PR department. Plus, Darcy’s social media would be blowing up if that were the case.

Remembering the recent pings, she unlocked her phone while she waited for Friday to confer with Tony. Darcy had made it to the elevator before she saw the first video. It was badly filmed, from a cell phone probably, and the image jumped around as the person holding it ran and ducked. Concrete exploded on the left, filling the view with dust. In the distance, movement caught the cameraman’s eye and he began talking fearfully. Figures solidified into one that was tall and broad shouldered and four smaller, quicker movements. Darcy held her breath, worry ramping up into fear. A whosh echoed and one of the small people fell. The camera crept closer, and the dirt covered blue of Steve’s uniform became visible. Two of the smaller men attacked. A shout. A rumble. The camera fell. An explosion. The entire video only lasted forty-two seconds.

_Please. No._

 “Friday?” Darcy could hear her own voice. Steady and even. Her heart was fluttering sideways in her chest.

“The boss says no one is dead, and, please excuse me, Ms. Lewis, I have been ordered to quote him ‘move your ass’.”

 Elevator doors opened and Darcy was flicking through the next video as Friday took her to the correct floor. Three more had already posted. One showed a different angle, but the dirt in the air made it impossible to see what happened to Steve. Another only caught more of the attackers, these moving through alleyway and across the roofs of buildings. The were Asian, dark-skinned, and dressed in military or police uniforms. They moved like dancers or martial artists, making leaps and using speed that was nearly inhuman. Darcy would know, she had seen a lot of super-humans up close. A third caught Natasha from the back as she performed an intricate and deadly fight with two men. Some calm, detached part of Darcy reflected that it looked choreographed, so perfectly did the redhead dodge and weave. Another man dropped down behind her, but an arrow took him through the eye before he could get close enough to attack.

Darcy could hear Tony talking as soon as she arrived at the Eighty-seventh floor. “I need cameras.”

 “On it, boss. The Myanmar government has little digital surveillance, but I am searching for private security feeds.”

 “Hawkeye, go.”

 Clint’s voice came through clearly, but the background noise of shooting and a helicopter was unmistakable. “Widow has cleared her section and is moving to flank Witch. Civilians are moving slowly with all this debris, but they are clearing out. Enemy is re-concentrating to focus on Vision, but I don’t have a clear shot.” Darcy stepped into the briefing room. Tony paced the center of the U-shaped table, discarded espresso cups and smoothies littering the surface. Video feeds played on the wall in front of him. Local news and CNN were tucked into the lower right corner, while Clint’s camera took up the largest space in the center. His bow flicked upright, and a distant enemy went down. Along the left edge of the wall, a box was labeled for each member of the team in the field.

 Black Widow. Her gun fired twice and a woman with a machete had two closely grouped holes in her head. Red mist flared at the edge of her vision and a huddle of children were sheltered from machine gun fire.

Scarlet Witch. She shielded the civilians with one hand, and with the other manipulated several chunks of concrete to fly through the air and knock the shooter to the ground.

Winter Soldier. Bucky’s metal hand was wrapped around a man’s neck, the enemy’s face contorted not with pain but rage. He pulled a knife and tried to stab between the vibranium plates. Bucky ignored it to shoot into an approaching group.

Vision. He was surrounded, but appeared to be holding his own. A swirl of wind and debris kicked around him, blowing bullets off course and picking up any of the fighters brave - or stupid - enough to try to move closer.

Captain America.

It was blank. Darcy’s heart did that weird sideways beat again, pushing against her lung and pulling at its moorings.

“Falcon, report!” Tony’s demand switched Clint’s view with Sam’s, flying high above the congested, narrow streets of the slum and neglected industrial buildings where the fight was happening.

“There is some serious strategy going on here, man. They went straight for Cap, and once he was out-” Darcy sucked in a breath and fell into the nearest chair, “-they targeted Vision. I think this was a lure.”

“Cap’s suit isn’t transmitting, can you get eyes on him?”

There was a long pause, then a red circle appeared on Sam’s screen. “That’s where I saw him last. Fuck!” Heavy artillery flew through the air, barely missing Sam as he dove and dodged. “They have anti-aircraft missiles!” The view blurred as Sam dodged another projectile. “We need serious backup here, Stark!”

“Iron Legion is enroute, give them fifteen. It will take me ninety minutes to get there by suit.”

“Not quick enough!” Sam dodged another missile. “Shit! We have new units converging on Cap’s last known location!”

“This was definitely a trap,” Clint’s mutter accompanied his footsteps as he jumped onto a new roof, knocking a soldier off with the end of his bow, then drawing a bead on one of Vision’s attackers.

“Boss, four combatants are attempting to access the Quinjet. I have locked them out and readied weapons, but it appears that they will soon move on to destruction.”

“Friday, non-lethal deterrents are preferred, but keep the jet safe and operational.”

“Yes, Boss.”  Darcy’s eyes kept being drawn back to the blank screen. Steve was super human. His ability to survive and heal was amazing; he had made it through seventy years in the ice, gun shots, broken bones, a ruptured spleen. God knows how many head injuries. Bucky once told her that Steve’s serum as enough better than his own that the Captain might have been able to regrow his arm, if their positions had been reversed. Given time, there was no telling what Steve could recover from. The more minutes that passed since the team had lost contact with him, the harder it was to convince herself that he would be okay.  “I have local feeds.”

“Anything on Cap?” Tony’s fingers flew across his tablet and the wall flickered with images from ATM machines, stores, and other cameras. He stopped on a black and white video, the sight partially blocked by a fluttering, torn awning. An entire city block was destroyed. Five hundred feet in any direction, no buildings were left standing. In the center of that space was a mound of concrete and twisted rebar. An I-beam, the edge melted and sagging, protruded from the debris like a grave monument. “Fuck,” Tony whispered. He shook his head and any despair that might have colored his voice was replaced with demand.

“Widow, you’ve got field command. Call it.”

“Retreat,” she replied quickly, coldly. “The Legion can cover us and handle crowd control. Regroup at the jet. Soldier-”

Bucky didn’t wait for her to finish. “We’ll meet you there.”

Tony was still talking as he split the main screen between Bucky’s camera and the black and white view, but Darcy tuned him out. There was blood on the fingers and wrist of Bucky’s metal hand. His voice was a staccato beat that matched the measured firing of his rifle. “Falcon. Heat.” Three enemies fell in quick succession before he dropped the rifle to swing against his back and pulled a heavy-looking black pistol. His eyes didn’t track the weapon, but remained on the destroyed buildings as he moved at a near sprint.  In greyscale, Darcy watched his right hand fire and men die while his left tore debris out of his way.

“Everything is still warm from the explosives, but there is a concentrated area ten feet southeast of you.” Sam fired from the air, covering Bucky’s back.

“-eleven minutes,” Tony was saying. A man jumped over the massive, angled remains of a wall and Bucky met him with his metal fist. The crunch of sternum, ribs, and spine was loud over his comm. Blood, thick and mixed with tissue and shards of bone flew across the screen as Bucky tossed the enemy aside and went back to work clearing debris. Darcy threw herself out of her chair, barely making it to a garbage can in time to empty her stomach.

“Next location,” Bucky demanded coldly.

“Jet’s in sight,” Clint said, “clearing a path now.”

“West, twenty-three feet,” Falcon reported. Another missile smoked past. “I do not have the patience for this shit,” he growled. His wings angled down and he dove toward the anti-aircraft guns, lobbing a grenade once he was close enough. The resulting explosion caused Vision’s screen to shake.

“On your left, _pyranicek_ ,” Wanda called out. Red mist swirled and cleared a group of soldiers from Vision’s side. The wind stopped abruptly and Natasha raced to enter melee. Darcy found her chair again with trembling legs, belatedly realizing that she still held her green scarf. She used it to wipe her cheeks and mouth.

“Jet’s clear,” Clint stated. “Friday, let’s get the engine warmed up.”

“Already ahead of you, Hawkeye.” The AI was also sending a technical readout to Tony which he cursed as he scrolled through.  “Boss, I was unable to prevent all of the enemies from approaching the jet. There appears to be some damage to communications and power systems-”

“Found him.” Darcy’s eyes snapped to Bucky’s screen. Under the remains of a staircase she could see the edge of a glove, dark blue and brown leather. Dirt and mud covered the exposed fingertips. They did not even twitch as Bucky gripped several tons of formed concrete and heaved.

“Soldier! On your six!” Sam was firing even as Bucky snapped forward, head thrown back. The black and white image showed his back bow, his knees bend. He nearly dropped the broken staircase, catching it at the last minute before it could fall on Steve.

“-air support.” Natasha’s call for help was followed by Wanda’s voice, cursing rapidly in Sokovian.

“They’re trying to isolate you, Vision! Pull-”

“-busy here, Widow!” Sam retorted.

Bucky grunted as he flipped the staircase over. Two more large pieces were moved and then Darcy could see Steve’s shield. He had used it to protect his head and chest, but he was lying on his back, one leg tucked under his body. The arm he had stretched out was impaled on a sharp spear of steel rebar. Six inches of the metal stuck out above his skin. Bucky whipped around, flinging a knife into another attacker. It hit him in the throat. “Go,” he ordered Sam. “I’ve got him.”

Tony was already redirecting Sam and coordinating with Clint on systems diagnostics for the jet. “Fucking Hydra wannabes,” he muttered as he worked on his tablet. Bucky ran his hands, metal and flesh, across Steve’s head and neck, down his ribs and hips, before probing his spine. Whatever he found, it did not stop him from unceremoniously pulling Steve’s arm up off of the rebar and lifting him into a fireman’s carry.

“Wanda!” Vision’s break from protocol was enough to drag Darcy’s attention away from Bucky and Steve’s still form. Wanda’s screen was a swirl of angry red and terrified soldiers. Natasha’s showed Vision, turned toward the younger woman. An enemy stood behind the witch, dual pistols raised less than ten feet from her back. One moment Vision was beside Nat, the next he was between Wanda and the threat. A blast of light was emitted by the stone on his forehead as he hovered in the air, protecting Wanda’s back. The soldier, and several others behind him were obliterated. Then Vision fell.

“No!” Wanda screamed and a pulse of red energy washed across the area. Enemies fell to the ground in a synchronized movement. She turned on Vision, and Natasha was there as well, guarding them both while the Witch checked him for injuries. Darcy could feel  a pit in her stomach. Bucky was jogging through debris, the jet in sight, and shooting anyone who came into his path. Falcon cleared an exit between Vision, Wanda, and Natasha and the quinjet.

“-what? Tell me what the hell-” Clint’s voice sounded angry.

“Friday? What is Vision’s status?”

“Boss, he’s...” there was a tremble to Friday’s voice, as if the AI felt as much apprehension and worry as the rest of them. “He is alive, but he has multiple gunshot wounds. It appears as though he has utilized his abilities to slow the movement of the projectiles through his corporeal form, but it is unlikely he will be able to sustain such control for long.”

There was a string of profanity, the crack of tears behind it, “They shot him in the head,” Wanda snapped. “I will kill them all for-”

“You will move him,” Natasha ordered. “Get him to the jet so we can get out of here. Stark, contact med support. We need it immediately. Falcon-”

They were moving, all of them, under Natasha’s cool professionalism. Darcy sat in shock. She had thought it was another false alarm, there had been so many recently. Calls to assemble that ended up being nothing, or matters that local police could handle. She hadn’t even left her office when Steve texted to say he was leaving. Vision had a bullet in his head. Wanda sounded like she was going to explode and take most of the Myanmar capital city with her.

_Steve is - is -_

Darcy couldn’t finish the thought, watching instead as Bucky entered the jet and gently laid his friend out on one of the two medical stretchers that folded down from the wall. He wasn’t moving. His eyes remained closed, even as Bucky pushed off his cowl. A long scrape down the side of his face made the rest of his skin look pale in comparison to the dried blood. His uniform was covered in dirt. Bucky was pulling out equipment, but he did not say anything else as the others talked over the comms. Darcy picked up her phone with trembling hands and dialed one of the few numbers she had memorized.

“Ms. Lewis?” Friday’s voice answered immediately. She sounded far calmer on the phone that the part of her attention that was speaking to Tony regarding Vision’s status, mass, and Wanda’s struggle to move him into the jet.

“Is he,” Darcy swallowed hard. “Can you put me through to Bucky, please?”

“Of course. Sergeant Barnes, I have Ms. Lewis on the line for you.”

“He’s alive.” For once, Bucky’s efficient, blunt manner was not funny or frustrating, but the most beautiful thing Darcy had ever heard. She actually slipped out of her chair, her eyes glued to the screen where Bucky was still leaning over Steve. The others were boarding, but Bucky didn’t turn around, instead smoothing his hands down Steve’s leg. It was clearly broken, the foot unnaturally angled to the rest of him.

“Thank god. Is-” There was a wet crack as Bucky set the bone, making certain that it would heal properly. Darcy almost threw up again. Steve did not flinch. She could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, but it never stuttered.

“-in Santiago. She’ll meet you here.”

“He can’t wait that long.”

“Medical will be standing by in Malibu to stabilize. Leave now.”

“Can you-” Darcy’s question was cut off as all of the screens went blank. The briefing room fell eerily silent with only the muted play of CNN flickering in the semi-darkness. She hadn’t noticed before that the lights were off. “What happened?” She could hear the hysteria rising in her voice. “Get it back. Get them back!”

“Darcy,” Tony said softly, but she ignored them.

“Fix it! I need to- fix it, Tony!” She stood, backing away from the table until her shoulders hit the wall. Her legs were trembling and her hands shook, dropping her phone.

“Lewis!” He got into her personal space, grabbing onto her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. He had reading glasses on. The frames were thin and silvery-blue like the glow of an arc reactor. “Listen to me. The jet took damage. In order to power essentials like engines and medical, we had to cut the comms. If their situation gets - if it changes, they can switch back for a few seconds to update us, but we need to focus on getting ready for them. They’ll call again when they touch down in California. Lewis, I need to know you are going to calm the fuck down and help me here.”

Darcy stared into his eyes, serious and solemnly brown. Steve was alive. Bucky had said so. There wasn’t anything more that could possibly happen to him while Bucky and the team were with him. She had to believe that. She had to force herself to believe that.

“I need to contact the consulate in Myanmar,” she said.

“To hell with Myanmar, they can wait.” Tony spun away from her. “I’ve got them landing at SI in Malibu, I need to let Pepper know they’re coming. Friday?”

“Calling Ms. Potts now, Boss.”

“Darcy, pull the security clearance files. Here.” He flicked his fingers and images popped up on the surface of the table. “I need a skilled surgeon within an hour of Malibu who can deal with Vision. Preferably someone already in the know. Order whatever equipment they need through SI. Friday? Get Cho booked - fastest thing out of Chile.”

“I have Ms. Potts for you, Boss.”

The next five hours passed in a blur. Tony moved corporations and money while Darcy shifted governments. Luckily, Pepper’s personal physician was already in Malibu with her and had impressive surgical experience. Dr. Vivas was quickly given clearances and nondisclosure agreements so she could meet the jet and begin assessing Vision while they flew on to New York. Helen Cho would be another one hundred and ten minutes behind with her cradle. The official channels in Myanmar were outraged and threatening action. Unofficially, Darcy discovered they were just as confused and worried about the day’s events as the American government. She hung up on the last mollified politician and saved her report as Friday announced,

“Boss, the team will be landing in five minutes. I have alerted medical to prepare for arrival and cleared the upper floors of all but essential staff. May I suggest increasing security on the Tower?”

“Lock it down, Friday. Until we figure out what the hell happened today, No one without clearance gets above ten, and I want Fort Knox to be jealous of our lobby security.”

“Paranoia status implemented, boss.”

“You coming, Lewis?” Tony was waiting at the door for her, his left foot jiggling with impatience but his brows raised expectantly.

“I- I’ll wait until Vision. I mean, Friday can let me know, once Vision has been taken care of, where Steve, well - where-” Darcy didn’t know what she was saying, exactly. She was dying to see him, crawling out of her skin worrying about Steve, but he was alive. Bucky had been with him and he was alive and breathing. Vision had been shot in the head. Whatever else happened, he needed attention first, and the team would need space to sort themselves out. “You go.”

“Fine,” he checked his watch. “But maybe go clean up. You look like you just puked. Captain Decorum wouldn’t say anything about it, but you’d probably like to brush your teeth before he sticks his tongue down your throat.” His impropriety hid his concern for the team, and Vision in particular.

Darcy nodded, and Tony frowned at her lack of sarcasm, admonishments, or bird-flipping, but he let the door swing shut behind him. She pressed her palms flat against the table top and breathed deeply. _In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold._ Her eyelids were closed so tightly spots began to swim in her vision. He was breathing. He was fine. The finest medical professionals in the world were waiting for Vision and Steve and she would be in the way if she went up to the roof. Friday would let her know. Let her know where to meet him. Let her know if he was awake and complaining about Bucky helping him to the infirmary to be checked out. Let her know if he was unconscious and headed for tests. Let her know if she needed to break down in the privacy of the briefing room. _In. Hold. Out. Hold. In._

“Ms. Lewis, the team has arrived and are being triaged. Captain Rogers is awake and responsive, but is being taken down for further tests.”

Darcy let out a watery, broken sigh. Then immediately felt guilty. “Vision?”

There was a long pause. “Vision has already undergone some surgical assistance under Dr. Vivas’ care. She has requested an additional surgeon attend her here, as Dr. Cho is still almost two hours out. I…” The AI trailed off and Darcy used that time to get herself under control. Steve was okay. He was okay. If he was awake then he would pull through. For Friday, however, things were still unsettled. Although she was programed to care for and have concern for the entire team and the residents of the Tower, Vision was, for all intents and purposes, her brother. They had both been created by Tony; she had followed in his digital footsteps.

“I know you will get him whatever he needs - whatever Vivas and Tony ask for. You’ll get it for Vision.”

“Yes. Thank you. Yes.” Friday’s faint Irish lilt evened out and she was once again sure. “And I will notify you with updates for Captain Rogers and the rest of the team, if that is acceptable, Ms. Lewis?”

“Yes, thanks, Fri. If anybody needs me, would you let them know I’ve gone to clean up?” Friday confirmed her request and Darcy found her thoughts circling as she took the elevator up to Steve’s studio apartment. There was nothing she could do for him - would actually be in the way, while the doctors assessed and worked on him. Friday or Bucky would let her know as soon as he was moved to a room, or if he asked for her. She was better off staying occupied, getting cleaned up and maybe making the bed, just in case Steve wanted to stay at the Tower instead of going back to his apartment in Brooklyn that night. She would rather be busy than sitting in one of the ridiculously comfortable waiting chairs outside the infirmary, watching Natasha and Bucky stare down helpful nurses. There was nothing she could say to Wanda who was no doubt pacing, maybe crying. Worse than that, Steve was far better off than Vision. Darcy worried that her presence would only remind Wanda of what she wanted, but had not really started with Vision.  If she was going to be able to comfort her friend, she needed to have her own mind clear to do that.

Darcy showered and changed clothes, brushed her teeth and hair and forced herself to eat a peanut butter sandwich and drink some water. When that was done and all Friday had for her was “he’s awake and talking, but still being tested” she requested permission to get into Wanda’s room. Each of the Avengers had a place of their own at the tower. Full-time residents like Bucky had full-blown apartments, but those that lived off-site, like Steve in Brooklyn, or at the training facility, like Wanda, had spacious studios. Friday and the Tower staff kept the places clean, and stocked whatever the residents requested, but Darcy didn’t think Wanda had been there more than twice in six months.

She ordered some basic food, including Wanda’s favorite soup from a nearby restaurant, and met security on a lower floor to take it up to the restricted Avenger’s apartments. Wanda only had a pair of sweats and a t-shirt in the closet, so Darcy had Friday purchase several outfits for delivery later in the day. That used up another forty minutes, and she still hadn’t heard from Steve as she walked back to his apartment.

“Friday?”

“Captain Rogers is still awake and speaking with the medical staff. I am not certain what additional information I can give you, as the discussion pertains to health information.”

Darcy frowned as she closed the door. “Steve said he put me on his release form.”

“This information does not pertain to Captain Rogers.”

“Are they talking about it in a patient room, or in a hallway?”

“They are speaking in the infirmary lobby.”

She raised a brow, “Then I would be able to hear if I were in that public area?”

“Oh...Yes, Ms. Lewis. Sergeant Barnes does not wish to receive medical treatment. Although the doctor would prefer to assess him, he cannot force him to stay. Captain Rogers disagrees.”

“Does Bucky appear hurt?”

“Visually, he does look rather worse for wear, but he has refused treatment in the past for more severe injuries. I am not certain why Captain Rogers is insisting on this matter, given the Sergeant’s known dislike for doctors.”

“Friday,” Darcy said slowly, “is Captain Rogers in a wheelchair?”

“No, Ms. Lewis.”

“On crutches?”

“No, Ms. Lewis, although-”

“Friday,” Darcy interrupted, “is Captain Rogers physically capable of accessing you right now?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis. I am integrated into every floor of the Tower, and available to Avengers personnel upon voice request, as always.”

“Than can you posit a theory, for me Fri?” Darcy could feel the anxiety and fear of the day, unreleased without seeing Steve herself, morphing into another emotion. Her cheeks grew hot and her volume rose. “Why, for fucking Thor’s sake, has my _boyfriend_ not managed at some point in the last two hours to call, text, use the elevator, or otherwise relay a message to let me know that he hasn’t fucking died!”  She kicked at the kitchenette cabinets, making her toe throb and doing nothing to relieve her anger.

“I do not...If I may paraphrase Ms. Potts, Ms. Lewis?” Darcy nodded sharply. “Perhaps he is an idiot?”

“Oh, he’s gonna wish he was in a wheelchair,” Darcy growled. She viciously filled the coffeepot, muttering to herself. “Worry after that thick-skulled, star-spangled moron but he doesn’t even….know Bucky told him to...ice still in his brain...should have…” She drank two cups of coffee and was nearly boiling over with fury and caffeine when the door to the apartment opened.

“Darcy!” His handsome face split into a grin. “Sweetheart I’m so happy to see you! I-”

“Really? Could have fooled me.” Darcy had to work to hold on to her anger. Steve looked like shit. The scratches on his face had been cleaned and were healed, but there was still dried blood and dirt on his jaw. He hadn’t taken off his uniform, and it was muddy and torn in a few places, but the lower left leg had been cut off to make room for a cast that stretched from his knee to his toes. His right arm was missing material too, instead wrapped with layers of clean surgical gauze. “You look like shit,” she said bluntly.

“Oh,” his eyes widened and he glanced down at himself, still smiling a little, letting the door swing shut on its own. “Well I, I guess I could have showered but I had something I wanted to tell you and-”

“Just couldn’t wait, huh?” She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms under her breasts. “I mean, other than waiting the five fucking hours you were blacked out of communications after Myanmar - you know, after I saw you buried under a few dozen tons of concrete with metal stuck through your limbs. After I watched Bucky set your leg without anesthesia. After he told me you weren’t dead - and _nothing else?_ ” Her voice was rising again, and she could feel her heart beating that funny sideways direction just thinking about how close it had been, how far away he had felt to her. How it could have easily been over. The way it might end for Vision and Wanda even still. “Or how you just couldn’t wait except for the two-” she glanced at the clock on the microwave, “three fucking hours that you have been in the Tower awake and able to talk - mean, apparently you can talk to Bucky and his doctor and the nurse that probably wrapped your fucking arm and probably even fucking _Tony_ but couldn’t find the time to send your girlfriend a message that you were okay? Just couldn’t wait a second to tell Friday, ‘hey, let my girl know I’m alright and I’ll see her soon’? Just couldn’t wait for that?”  

Darcy was crying, she could feel the tears running down her face, but she didn’t acknowledge them. She couldn’t, because then she wouldn’t be the willfully wronged and righteously indignant party, she would be the sobbing, needy, whiney bitch that totally knew what she was getting into with dating a superhero and then when the shit hit the fan she folded like a wet paper sack. A few floors below them Wanda was no doubt being tough while the man she was head over heels for was in surgery. Her friends were there, offering whatever support she needed. If Darcy wasn’t angry for good reason then she was scared, and selfish, and alone, and weak and breaking apart inside because she had no idea this would be so hard - no idea how she could be strong for Wanda when she couldn’t be strong for herself.

While she had spoken - shouted, practically screamed - at Steve, his face had gone progressively paler. His mouth fell open and he stepped toward her, but Darcy flinched away, nearly falling into the refrigerator to keep him from touching her. It wasn’t just tears running down her face, but snot too. She could hear her own deep gasps for breath, choking on her sobs.

“There wasn’t anything I could do,” she whispered. “I watched, I sat with Tony and I listened to them looking for you and there wasn’t anything I could do. And then no one could talk to me. Vision was _shot in the head_ , Steve. And you didn’t open your eyes and I couldn’t talk to you and I-”

“Hey.” Steve moved quickly, despite his cast, and wrapped his arms around Darcy. She held herself stiff for only a moment before collapsing against his chest. “I screwed up. I am sorry, Darce. So, so sorry.” She cried into his chest. His uniform didn’t absorb anything, so her tears ran down the front, her runny nose smearing on the kelvar weave that was hard under her cheek. “I didn’t know you had seen that. I would have called, I would have been up here sooner, I promise. Bucky said he told you I was okay, and I wanted to make sure he had someone to watch him before I saw you. I didn’t know you were worried, sweetheart, please, oh, Darcy. Please, I’m so stupid. I should have called right away. I should have known you would have seen some of the footage. I’m sorry.” He was rubbing circles on her back with his right hand and threading his left through her hair. It felt nice, and gradually Darcy’s sobs fell into hiccups, and then stilled. She rubbed her face against his armored pecs to try and get some of the salty residue and mucus off her skin. She felt a little better. Incredibly embarrassed, to be sure. More than a little self-absorbed, yes. But no longer angry and frightened half out of her mind.

“Why does someone need to watch Bucky?”

Steve paused in his rubbing, “What?”

“Friday said he had gone home with worse injuries before, so why does he need a babysitter?”

“Oh. It’s, uh…” Darcy pulled back so she could see his face.  The corner where the counter met the fridge kept her from going too far, but she couldn’t mistake the flush on his neck. He cleared his throat. “Buck doesn’t like doctors much, so usually he comes back to my place, or I go to his, and I help him disinfect and tape up or stitch what needs it.”

“He needs stitches?” Darcy tried to remember what Bucky had looked like in the video. He hadn’t moved like he was injured, and he always wore kelvar.

“Just a couple of stab wounds, the bullet didn’t get through his armor.”

“What!?”

“I mean,” Steve backpedaled and squeezed her lightly so she wouldn’t move away, “Nothing that won’t be completely healed in a couple of days. He’ll be fine. But Friday said you were waiting for me here and I wanted to be alone with you and-”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed, her neck beginning to crick from tilting far enough back to look him in the eyes. “So you made me wait all day to find out if you were okay then left your best friend to take care of his own stab wounds so that you could get some nookie?”

“What! No! I-” Steve let out a heavy sigh and glanced at the ceiling, his lips twisting as he searched for words. Or maybe patience. With a sudden bend of his knees he gripped her thigh with his left hand and lifted her onto the counter. She reflexively steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. “Darcy Rebecca Lewis,” he intoned. “I would like to speak now. Are you ready to listen?” His blue eyes were boring into hers, his jaw tensed with the same stubborn surety that he got when expounding about freedom or defending his friends. She nodded, slowly, not trusting herself to reply.

Steve pulled open the drawer next to him and dug around until he found a dishcloth. He leaned forward, pressing into the space between her knees, and wet it under the faucet. Gently, he took her chin in his hand and wiped off her face, smoothing across her red eyelids and nose. He folded the cloth and did a final, cool swipe across her swollen mouth before tossing the dishrag in the sink and focusing on her intently.

“Today, when that building fell on me, I thought I was going to die. It was the same feeling I got the day I crashed into the Arctic Ocean. Back then, my only regret was not asking a girl I was sweet on to dance. Darcy,” his palm, hot and firm, flattened against her lower back. She felt lost in the blue of his eyes, wishing she could have this moment forever, the heat of his body radiating against her. The steady movement of his chest under her hands, the puff of his breath between them. The wedge of his hips, unmoveable, between her thighs keeping her from sliding off the counter.

“Darcy,” he repeated, his eyes flicking down to her mouth before meeting her gaze again, “it was so much worse this time. Faster, but worse - because I had so much more to lose. The team here. Bucky. And you. More than just a girl I never got to dance with. You’re the woman I love - and I didn’t think I would ever get to tell you.” Darcy was certain she had stopped breathing. He was smiling again, softly, crinkling the dirt at the corner of his eye.

“I love you Darcy. From the moment I woke up on the jet I couldn’t wait to tell you. I knew I had to tell you. No more waiting for the perfect moment. No more fear that you might not feel the same way. I just wanted to get you alone so that I could let you know. I love you. I will always do everything in my power to come home to you, but I didn’t want to go another day without you knowing. When I woke up, and Bucky told me about Vision-” he glanced away for a moment, swallowing hard before he turned back again, “when I saw Wanda on the jet, I couldn’t  go out there again until I let you know how I feel.”

“Because that could be you.” Darcy spoke quietly, her thoughts somersaulting. “In Vision’s place. You could be dying. Dead.”

“I could,” he agreed, just as quietly.

“And you love me.”

“Yes.”

 


	2. Solo

“And you love me,” Darcy repeated. Her expression was unreadable, her blue eyes surrounded by pink from her crying jag.

“Yes.” God, it felt good to say it. To tell her what he had been thinking for weeks, feeling for months, what had started that first time they met when she flung herself off of a burning building and into his arms. Buck said it was a self-serving justice, that Steve should find a woman as careless with her own safety as he was with his. If it was justice or fate, or a lucky fluke, Steve didn’t care. He wouldn’t have traded a minute with Darcy for a lifetime with any other woman. It felt selfish and greedy to value her over anyone else that way, but this was one thing in which Steve didn’t want to be right. One thing he would take and keep for himself no matter what it took. It would have been better for Darcy, he thought as he had a million times since he realized he loved her, if he pushed her away. Being with him was putting a target on her back for his enemies and exposing her heart to the high probability that he would be hurt, die, leave her lonely. He cared for those things, he hurt that his love might hurt her, but he still had to tell her. He still had to let her know and pray that she would jump to him all over again - fearless and trusting.

“The next time this happens,” Darcy’s words made hope swell in his chest, “I won’t be waiting for you here, crying my eyes out.”

His heart collapsed, caving in on itself while he desperately tried to think of a way to make it better, to get her to forgive him, to make her stay. He could leave the Avengers, Bucky would come too, he was sure. Tony would understand, he had retired, semi-retired, for Pepper. It would be hard, to know that he could be doing good and instead sit back, but if it was a choice between letting the world save itself or being without Darcy, it was no choice. He knew how it felt to get a kiss and miss a dance. He didn’t want to know how it felt to have the girl and miss _everything._ He needed to find the words, to say-

“Because you will call me,” Darcy continued as though he wasn’t reeling from an emotional carnival ride. “And if you can’t, Bucky will, or Friday will, and I will come to you. Got it? Because I lo-”

Steve couldn’t wait for her to finish, he was already swooping in to crush her mouth under his. Her lips were hot and swollen from crying, just as soft and sweet as always. She parted her mouth the moment his tongue touched her skin and he could taste the faint mint of her toothpaste and the familiar heat of her. She was still trying to talk, although her fingers were wound up in the hair on the back of his neck. She nearly bit him with her mumbling and he laughed into her open mouth. He pulled away, just far enough to rest his forehead against hers and see the flush on her cheeks.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. ‘S not polite.”

“Who’re you? The manners police? You interrupted me, dude. I was trying to say I-”

He kissed her again, flattening his right hand against her back and pulling her to the edge of the counter. Her thighs wrapped around his hips to help her balance and she made an indignant sound that melted into a moan as her pelvis came into firm contact with the hard ridge of his uniform. He had to keep most of his weight off of his broken left foot, and his right arm wouldn’t regain full strength in it until the hole in his forearm closed in a day or so, but he felt good enough to consider how many obstacles were between him and the bed on the other side of the studio and plan how best to navigate the space. Her free hand was trailing down his chest, he couldn’t help but flex under her palm even as he dove into the moist warmth of her mouth again. Her fingers found a tear in his suit and delved inside. He groaned at the feeling of her soft touch on his skin - then promptly yelped as she pinched his nipple. Hard.

“Ouch, jeeze, Darce,” he chuckled, grabbing her wandering fingers in his right hand to hold them flat against his chest. He leaned back enough to see her face clearly, glasses smudged and slightly askew, keeping his hips firmly pressed against her so she wouldn’t fall. “If you want to play like that, give me a minute to take off the uniform.”

“If you would shut up for a second, doofus, you would hear me say that I love you too.” Steve sucked in a breath, all his humor fading. She _loved_ him. She loved _him_. She was also scowling fairly seriously. “You love me, and I love you, and if you would let me get a word in edgewise you would hear me say we should have I’m-sorry-for-freaking-out-don’t-ever-die-on-me, screw against the wall, or any other hard surface, sex until all I can taste is you and we can’t see straight - or at least until I can’t see straight, damn super serum. But you’re barely functional, down a foot and an arm, so we should probably take it slow.” She took a deep breath and smiled, “See how important listening skills are?”  As she spoke he could feel his astonished happiness growing exponentially. His heart was pumping overtime, sending all his blood south where he was pressed against Darcy. The woman he loved. The woman who loved him.

Damn but she had good ideas. “Super soldier, sweetheart,” he murmured against her mouth, watching as her pupils dilated. “I’m fully functional even down two limbs.” To demonstrate, he ground his pelvis against hers. The rigid material of his uniform didn’t really allow for her to feel him, but the pressure was enough to torture them both pleasantly.

“Fuck,” Darcy whispered. Steve agreed wholeheartedly. His balls were heavy and aching, a sharp contrast to the light feeling in his heart. He let go of her hand and ran his fingers around the deep vee of the undershirt she was wearing - his undershirt, which would have been tight across his chest and was absolutely sinful on Darcy’s curves. Her head fell back, bumping lightly against the upper cabinets, and he pressed his lips against the corner of her open mouth. She continued talking while he kissed, tasting the skin of her cheek. Her jaw. The smooth stretch of her throat just under her ear.

“Are you sure you’re, ah...sweet mother of-”

He pulled the skin of her neck into his mouth sucking gently and reveling in the way she lost her train of thought. There were few things that could make Darcy stop talking, and Steve relished being one of them. He released her skin with a small nip, enough to pinch but not to hurt, and she let loose a sharp little cry that sent a current down his spine. He used his tongue to trace his name down her throat to her collarbone and took the delicate structure carefully between his teeth.

“Up for this?” She ended on a high note. Her left hand slid high across the back of his skull, seeking the longer hair on top to fist in her hand.  Her right palm found his bicep, clenching ineffectually against the muscle and making him wish the suit had a single velcro opening that he could yank apart so they could be skin to skin. Now. God, she tasted good. He cupped her breast through the thin material of the shirt she had borrowed. Her bra wasn’t lined; he could feel the hard pebble of her nipple against his palm. He licked across her skin. She tasted as good as she felt. He wanted more. Steve pulled the neckline to the side, exposing the upper curve of her generous chest, but the material would not stretch far enough to accommodate what he wanted. What he needed.

“A man in your...condition…” she continued. Darcy was a tease, and Steve had always loved it. He loved it now, loved the way she talked to him. Loved the way he could make her stop - take  her and wind her up and pull her so taut and distracted that she couldn’t find words. He loved her. And he wanted to be on her, in her, now.

He seized the neckline of her shirt with both hands, his right twitching with pain as the muscles flexed, but the violent rip of cotton was worth any amount of discomfort. Darcy loved it when he shredded her clothes - at least, in the moment she did. But after she had come two or three times and lay panting on his bed. Or couch. Or carpet. _Then_ she was irritated at the loss of a blouse or skirt. This was rightfully his shirt, so he took extreme pleasure in rending it to expose her gloriously full breasts encased in nothing but sheer pink lace. Darcy took pleasure as well.

“Steve!” Her strangled shout was enough to make him grin against the rough material, until he pulled her nipple into his mouth. The lace created a friction between his tongue, palate, and her sensitive skin. “Yes! God!” She pulled his hair sharply, and he swirled around her hardened bud. His cock was painfully hard, the uniform allowing almost no room for him to shift. He fumbled for the front zipper with one hand even as he pressed the other back between her shoulder blades, curving her spine and offering her up for his enjoyment. And hers.

Getting out of the suit was a process, but it had features to allow for basic needs. Steve doubted that stroking himself had been a consideration during the design process, but he was too desperate for Darcy to bother with anything more comprehensive. The boxer briefs he wore gave way almost comically as soon as the pressure of the zipper was removed. Darcy’s knee length skirt had bunched around her thighs when he put her on the counter, and his cock slapped against her bared leg before he could seize it, leaving a sticky wet spot of pre-cum on her skin.

She flinched and then moaned. Her shudder ran across her flesh and down the slope of her breast into his mouth. “Steve, fuck. Yes. Fuck. God, Steve.”

He hadn’t even touched her clit yet, and she was already begging and at a loss for words. Steve willingly followed her into that insanity. His hand found the soft skin on the inside of her knee and traced up quickly to the crease of her hip, dragging her skirt out of the way. Fingertips brushed against damp curls and petal soft skin and he abruptly realized she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Darcy,” he moaned against her skin. Her nipple slid from his lips and her breast bounced before his eyes.

“Later. Tell you,” she muttered unreasonably. “Want you now.”  She tugged on his hair again and her fingers slipped through the tear in his suit, finding his own sensitive flesh much quicker a second time. “Stop. Fucking. Around. Steve.” She punctuated each word with a roll of his pebbled skin. He crushed her lips under his, forcing his tongue into her mouth and demanding compliance. What she did to him, Steve knew it was more than just lust, just love. Both together and only with Darcy could make him blind to everything but the taste of her, the feel of her slippery skin as he pressed his first two fingers into her.

_Perfect, Sweetheart_ , is what he thought, but all that came out was, “So wet, fuck.” And she was, dripping and ready for him after only a few minutes. He swirled that moisture up and around her hood, once, twice, before slipping past the skin and stroking her clit between his two fingers. She bit his lower lip, and he retaliated by pinching her lightly. Darcy let out a strangled scream, flinging her head against the cabinets with a crack as she came, and Steve was done for. He had never taken her so quickly before, so roughly, but she was so wet. So ready for him, clawing at his arm and his hair and he wanted her so badly. Any square inch of her skin he could press to his own and bring them closer.  He thrust inside her before any other thoughts could intrude.

His arm burned at the sudden tension placed on the torn muscles, pressing her tightly against him while he gripped her thigh in his good hand and pulled her leg high against his ribs to deepen the angle. One, two, three thrusts and he was already so close he could feel himself trembling against her. He licked into her mouth and then pulled away. She gasped for air as he pressed hot kisses to her cheek, her eyebrow. He shoved her glasses into her hair and traced his lips along her cheekbone. When he reached her hair he paused, forcing himself to take soft, even breaths to regain some small semblance of control. Her palm left his chest and smoothed up his neck and along his jaw. He turned into her, ghosting words along her life line. _Love you. Love you. So good. Darcy. Good Sweetheart. Love you._

“Steve,” she murmured, her voice heavy and husky in the way that it always got after one good orgasm. Languid and sultry and ready for more. It made his cock twitch and he tilted his head back, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down to ground himself in the small pain and hold his hips still. She gasped, and he opened his eyes at the sound, wondering when he had closed them. Her hair was tousled and crazy, curling in a way that screamed she had been fucked well. Her glasses had disappeared and Steve couldn’t muster a care for if they were broken or lost forever. Her blue eyes were wide and her brows raised. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” he groaned around his own lip.

“Ugh,” her hips rolled and her channel clenched torturously even as she frowned. “No, Steve. Fuck, where’s the condom?”

He stilled, blinked heavily, and couldn’t stop himself from a half-aborted thrust into her welcoming softness. She moaned, eyes going heavy-lidded again and he nearly forgot about her question. _Fuck_ , he thought, her words finally registering, _no condom_. Darcy was on the pill, but they always used two forms of contraceptives. Once he got past the ingenuity of an oral birth control, he had completely agreed. If one failed, the other would have them covered. They hadn’t been dating that long, and his job was so dangerous, and they didn’t have any permanent commitment between them so the chance wasn’t worth it. Except now they had a commitment - at least Steve felt they did, and he was almost certain Darcy did as well. She wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it. And the chance, as she had explained it and he later read up on the internet, was so, so small. And she was so, so-

Darcy made a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh and her body tightened around him again. Steve bucked in response, slamming his hips against hers and feeling that tightness at the base of his spine, the crackle of electricity that meant he was nearly there. He squeezed his eyes shut. _Fuck me._ Darcy would ignore it, he knew she would, so easily with her body so close to the edge and he could make her forget about it because he felt so good in her too and if this was what it would always be like to be bare against her then he-

“Fuck,’ he hissed, and withdrew from her.

“Wha-?” Darcy murmured, her disappointment so tangible he almost gave in to his own desire to take her there on the counter. Then again on the kitchen floor. Maybe in the shower after that.

“We gotta, ugh, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead between her neck and shoulder keeping his eyes closed against the sight of her breasts rising and falling, breathing in the mixed scent of sweat, soap, and familiar soft musk on her skin. His hard length twitched against her bare thigh, he knew he was leaking against her skin and he was damned if his pulse didn’t stutter at the thought. “Condoms are in the nightstand.”

“Too far?” There was more question in her voice than there should have been - then there would have been if she wasn’t more than halfway to another orgasm already. Sometimes, Steve really, really hated being responsible. He shook his head against her shoulder and she sighed. “Right.” She wiggled, obviously trying to get down, and Steve reflexively squeezed her leg in his hand. He seemed to have used all of his self-control pulling out, he couldn’t also pull away.

“I’ve got you.” He leaned back, sliding his palm up under her ass and pressing her close with his injured arm. The burning pull of the wound there freed up some of his ability to think. _This is better, good. Condoms. Horizontal surface._ He could then finish inside her. As many times as he could bring her with him until they were both too exhausted to continue. He stepped back hefting her weight into his torso. She squawked and hooked her ankles behind his back.

“Steve! I’m too heavy!”

Of course, that wasn’t the problem. Darcy was less than a buck fifty even draped in her heaviest sweaters, and he could lift that one handed without batting an eye. The problem was his damn cast. He wasn’t supposed to put weight on it - was, in fact, supposed to be using a crutch. The doctor had warned that if he didn’t stay off of it for at least twenty-four hours they might have to rebreak the ankle so it would heal correctly. Darcy squeezed with her arms and legs, pressing her pubic bone against his cock where it was trapped between them.

“Hell with it,” he muttered, striding out of the kitchenette as quickly and carefully as he could. His foot and shin throbbed under the plaster, but he made it to the bed without wincing or letting Darcy get more than a few inches away. He toppled them both against the pillows, catching himself on his good arm to keep from crushing her. The pain in his ankle and arm were nothing in comparison to the way his blood pounded when Darcy giggled and squirmed under him. “Worth it,” he whispered.

“On your knees, soldier,” Darcy ordered. Steve was already hard enough to pound nails, but he obeyed with a groan as his tip dragged against her skin before bobbing away from her entirely. “Is this ruined?” She flicked at his suit over his abs, letting her nails scrape against him. He couldn’t feel much but a light pressure through the kelvar, but he groaned anyway.

“Yeah.”

She smirked, and he swallowed, too distracted by the bounce and sway of her tits to do more than grab at her as she rolled away. She didn’t leave the bed, thank God, and his hand landed on the curve of her ass as she fell to her elbows and stretched out, reaching for his desk. He couldn’t imagine what she was looking for, and didn’t really care as he took the opportunity to squeeze and mold her flesh in his palm. Darcy had an ample bottom, full and high and tapering into a narrow waist at the top so that it made an upside down heart. He leaned back enough that he could see the pink flesh of her sex peeking out between her thighs. There was no thinking involved, he just bent over and licked her. Salt and vaguely tart musk and so, so wet. God Almighty he wanted this woman. Now. Forever. In bed and out. Although preferably in bed for the next eight or twelve hours.

She moaned, pressing her cheek against the duvet and looking over her shoulder at him. “Let’s circle back to that,” he tightened his grip on her flesh and swept his tongue out again. Her mouth fell open. “Really, really come back,” she said breathily, “as soon as we get you out of those clothes.” She held up a pair of scissors from his desk drawer and winked. _God, this woman._ “Lay back and enjoy yourself.”  

It was a good thing Steve had trained with sharp weapons, or there would have been no way he could maneuver them both without serious bloodletting. As it was, Darcy shrieked with laughter as he rolled and flipped, landing on his back with her straddling his hips. Facing his feet. Her full ass was still bare, skirt around her waist, and the aching purple head of his cock bobbing against her cleft and smearing pre-cum on her skin.

“As much as I love the view,” Steve risked squeezing two handfuls and found the dwindling pain, once again, more than worth it, “it might be better to start at the bottom and work your way up.”

Darcy wriggled, coating his balls and the base of his shaft with her juices. “Spoilsport,” she whispered. She was off him in a flash, kneeling at the base of the bed and carefully slipping the scissors between his skin and the uniform just above his cast. She sliced slowly, far more slowly than he would have done - too careful with his skin that would heal overnight when she was mostly bare and completely ready for him. It took an eternity for her to reach his waist. He removed his utility belt himself and undid the hidden clasps that kept his upper armor attached to his pants.  “Ooo, sneaky,” she licked her lips. “Now that I know how to get you out of this - you might have trouble staying suited up.”

“Anytime you want, Sweetheart.” Steve could hear the husky want in his own voice, but couldn’t drum up any embarrassment for it. Darcy’s beautiful breasts swayed slightly in pink, wet lace. The tattered remains of his white undershirt fluttered around her as she moved back down toward his ankles. She paused, one hand on his remaining boot, and fingered the hem of her skirt where it had fallen down to barely cover her mound.

“Tit for tat, eh, soldier?” She raised a brow and smiled, then shucked her cotton skirt to the ground, slipping his shirt off her shoulders at the same time. He watched her, in nothing but her bra, as she unlaced his boot. His heart was pounding so hard he was surprised she couldn’t hear it. His sock disappeared over her shoulder, and she wrinkled her nose at the sweat on it but quickly moved on to his pants. It took her a moment to figure out the proper way to work them off - the damn uniform was like a second skin, but the wait was the best kind of torture. Her small hands slipped under the material, pressing against his skin and tugging. Her nails scraped lightly against him. And best of all, she had accidently - or more like purposefully, knowing Darcy - cut through his underwear when she took care of his pants so it all came off together.

She ran her hands up his thighs, gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes dark with desire. “I’m almost tempted to stop here.” Her gaze fixed on his cock and she whispered to herself, or maybe to him, “Patience, patience.” She sat up and straddled him, the base of his cock rubbing against her clit in a way that made her eyes flutter whenever he shifted his weight. Darcy leaned over to the nightstand and fished out a condom, opening the package and rolling it down his length with practiced ease.

“You know,” he managed to bite out after a particularly lingering squirm on her part, “There is a zipper under my left arm. Then you’d only have to cut away my right shoulder.”

“You must be terrible at Christmas, Steve Rogers. No ability to enjoy the anticipation, always wanting to rip through the wrapping.”

“I promise to treat my present very, very well,” he managed. Darcy ignored him, although her breathing hitched. It was another three agonizing minutes before she had finally freed his torso and pulled the remains of his uniform out from under him. Steve wasted no time in yanking her down - casting the scissors far across the room with a thunk. The press of her naked flesh against him made him groan with pleasure. “Waited so long,’ he murmured. And he had. It seemed like forever. Over a month at least since he had realized he loved her and begun to fantasized about this. About making love to her and saying the words. About what it would feel like to have her say them back.

She slid up his chest until his cock slipped out from between them and nudged at her opening. “I was saying earlier,” Darcy began, pressing a light kiss to his lips, then his chin, “that a man in your condition should really be certain to get adequate rest. No excessive or strenuous movement.” Steve frowned, not sure he liked where she was going with that. She kissed his neck, just above his adam’s apple, then nipped at the lump in his throat before licking her way to the hollow between his collarbones. “So best just let me do the work here, yeah?”

“Can’t-” He sucked in a breath as her mouth found his nipple and her pussy pressed against the head of his cock. “Can’t argue with that- that- that…” She was lowering herself slowly, bracing her palms against his abs and taking him in one slow inch at a time. Even with the condom, she felt so gloriously good, so perfect, his brain turned to mush. Her soft body held him, cushioned all the hard parts of him as if she had been made for him alone.

Her thighs trembled as she held herself off the final inch. “Logic?” she suggested.

He seized her hips in his hands and pulled her down while he thrust up, done with talking. Darcy abandoned words as well - or at least fully formed thoughts. All that she could manage were variations of his name, pleas to a higher power - thankfully not Thor - and a variety of intonations of ‘fuck’. Steve was happy to oblige. His thumb wedged between them to gather moisture, then he found her clit. He was close, so close he had to grind his teeth and close his eyes against the beautiful picture she made bouncing on him. He circled, he flicked, and when she gasped and bit off a high-pitched scream he pressed the pad of his thumb down firmly.

“I love you, Darcy.”

She came on a shrieking gasp and a wailed, “Love you! Love Steve. Steve!” He followed right after, alive, content, and home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Never tell me the odds."

**Author's Note:**

> "It's a trap!"


End file.
